Our Thanksgiving this year was more of the mad dash type. Late Wednesday night we left Salt Lake and drove to Tyce's parent's home in Idaho, then drove back after dinner on Thursday, making it home within 24 hours of leaving. On Thanksgiving day, we woke up to a German pancake breakfast, then relaxed (and worked on nap time with Lincoln) until the turkey was done.
I have a very strict personal rule to never feel famished for more than a few hours (hello grouch), but for Thanksgiving I thought it would be smart to wait since the meal was so large. After the delicious meal of turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and candied yams, I remembered another reason I created that rule: I practically had to be rolled out the door because I ate so much. And I forgot my stretchy pants.